


The Firebird

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, Prince Victor Nikiforov, Russian Mythology, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 16:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: When someone starts to steal golden apples from his father's garden Tsarevich Victor stays up all night to catch the thief, but when the thief arrives Victor finds that instead of catching and stopping the thief he had lost his heart to him, he must go on a quest and find the elusive firebird that turns into a handsome man...





	The Firebird

A long time ago in a kingdom far, far from here there lived a Tsar who had two sons and one daughter: Georgi – the eldest, Mila – the second, and Victor – the youngest. All three children were his pride and joy and he often remarked that any of them could rule the kingdom after his death.

Georgi spent many hours hunting in the forests of the kingdom. He could follow the trail of any animal and knew every wood. Mila, on her part, was extremely fond of fishing in the rivers and lakes and knew all the secret places where the best catch could be found.

But Victor was as different from his siblings as day is from night. The hunt for animals of the land or sea held no interest for him. Instead he would spend hours in the palace, learning how to dance. In the evenings, the two oldest brothers would entertain their father with tales of the great catches of the day, while Victor remained silent.

The Tsar worried about his youngest son. He could see how every day, bit by bit, loneliness ate his soul away and that there was a big hole in his heart. Perhaps, the Tsar thought, it was time to seek out a suitable match for Victor.

The Tsar was the ruler of a rich domain. The legend of his palace spread far beyond the borders of his kingdom, but there was one treasure in his possession that was kept secret from everyone, except the royal family. In his apple orchard the Tsar kept a single tree that instead of red or yellow apples, bore ones made of gold among leaves of silver. When a breeze shook this tree it rang like dozens of little bells and cheered the hearts of all who heard it.

One morning just as the sun rose from its slumber the Tsar summoned his sons to him.

Georgi walked in, boasting of a dragon he would slay that day. The villagers of a far-off town, he said, had begged him to save them from the terrible beast.

Mila followed behind him, telling everyone who would listen about a dangerous serpent in one of the rivers in the kingdom and how she would rid the world of it at last.

Victor arrived last, lost deep in thought and saying nothing.

“My children,” the Tsar began, “this morning as I counted the golden apples on the tree I found that two were missing.”

The three siblings exchanged looks of alarm. Who would dare to steal from the Tsar’s garden?

They all knew how much the Tsar valued this tree. No one could remember how it came to be in their garden, but it brought good fortune and protection to their kingdom. To allow the tree to come to harm was to call a terrible disaster upon their heads.

Georgi spoke up before either of his brothers could, “Please, father, allow me to stand watch tonight and I will catch this rotten thief!”

The Tsar granted him his permission and Georgi stepped out into the apple orchard, his sword held tightly in his grip and determination creasing his brow.

The sun made its way across the sky and set, and still there was no sign of the thief. The moon rose and began its slow journey through the heavens. With a sigh, Georgi sat down under the tree, his sword still in his hand, feeling his eyelids get heavier and heavier with each passing second. Maybe he could close them for just a moment, surely there was no harm in that…

 

Morning came. The sun rose once more and its rays raised the Tsarevich from his deep slumber.

He jumped to his feet and began counting the apples on the tree at once.

Like the night before, two apples had disappeared while he slept.

Georgi returned to the Tsar, frustrated with his failure.

“Tell me, son,” the Tsar asked, “did you catch the thief?”

“No, father. I watched the tree all night long,” Georgi lied, “but the apples vanished without my seeing the thief or how he stole them.”

Learning of her brother’s failure, Mila offered to stand guard over the tree the following night.

But, just like her brother, Mila could not stay awake the whole night long: as soon as the moon rose in the sky she was fast asleep under the tree. The next morning she told her father that the thief had been to quick for her to catch.

“I would like to try my luck,” Victor volunteered with an easy smile.

This surprised the Tsar. If his two oldest children, who had slain so many dangerous beasts, could not catch the thief, then what could his youngest do? But he knew that sometimes cunning succeeded where strength could not and, so, he granted his permission once more.

 

Night draped its mantle over the garden, spilling millions of stars over the sky. Victor strolled up and down the garden path, taking in the smells of the flowers and waiting patiently for the thief.

Was that the sound of someone’s footsteps? Was that rustling in the grass? He turned, but saw nothing.

Determined to stay awake, he remained on his feet. He hummed a song under his breath and swayed in a pale imitation of a dance as he kept a watchful eye on the garden around him.

And then a bright light flared up in the sky and floated towards him. Without a second thought, he slipped into the cover offered by the shadow behind the nearest bush and peered out, convinced that the thief was about to make his appearance at last.

A golden bird, glowing as if it was made entirely of fire, descended towards the tree. Each feather ended in a little orange flame, making it hard to stare at it for long. Without landing, it snatched an apple off the branch and swallowed the entire thing whole.

Victor’s eyes widened in surprise as he watched the bird dissolve before him and take on the shape of a young man with short dark hair and a bewitching smile. His feet landed slowly in the grass without making a sound. He reached out for another apple and cupped it in his hands with a fond smile on his lips. This he removed carefully, almost reverentially from the tree. He gave a polite bow to the tree and slipped the apple into a fold in his clothing.

The night was so tender, the stars twinkled so brightly in the heavens that even this stranger must have felt the magic in the air. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

Moonlight bathed his lithe figure and then he turned and treaded carefully through the tall grass in what was the most fascinating dance Victor had ever seen. He opened his eyes and raised his hands. Silver moonlight shone in the small opening where they young man danced, reflecting in the grass and the leaves of the apple tree.

Victor caught sight of bare feet below the flame-red robes as the man moved. Music drifted through the air, as if following his steps, instead of the other way around. And still he glowed like the bird had done.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Victor stepped out of his cover and gave a polite bow. “Good evening! I am Tsarevich Victor and I –”

The young man froze on the spot and gave him a frightened look.

“Please,” Victor raised his hands, “I wish you no harm.”

The young man backed away in fear.

Victor followed. “Please, I merely wish to know your name. I –”

The man turned to run and Victor caught him by the hand.

But the young man slipped away and Victor was left clutching a feather as the young man returned to the shape of a bird and took to the skies.

“Wait!” Victor called out, but it was too late.

The young man, the bird, had flown.

Morning found Victor sitting under the tree, lost deep in thought. He said nothing about the thief to his father. No, he merely returned to his rooms in silence and hid the feather away. It burned as bright as the sun and was almost as warm. It left a burn on his hand, but Victor did not complain about the pain.

Days went by, followed by nights spent under the tree with the golden apples, but the firebird did not return.

After a fortnight of waiting Victor decided that the young man was not coming back. He donned a set of armour and ordered the servants to prepare his horse, determined to find the young man himself.

They all gave him looks of surprise and he knew what thought was uppermost in their minds. Tsarevich Victor never trained in battle and was now leaving the safety of the palace, armed for combat.

He made no comment about this, acting like one who expected his orders to be obeyed without question.

Word of his preparations reached his father and, before long, he was summoned to the Tsar’s presence. “Vitya, where are you going?” the Tsar asked. “What happened to you? After that night under the golden apple tree, you have not been yourself.”

Victor gave him a sad smile. “I must go out in the world and seek my fortune elsewhere, father. I promise to return once I find it.”

The Tsar questioned him further, but Victor refused to tell him more.

“Very well then, I give you my blessing for this journey. I will see to it that you get everything you require.”

These words made Victor stop and think. “There is something I wish to take with me, father, but I fear that my request will only anger you.”

“What is it?” the Tsar asked. “If your request is a reasonable one, I promise I will not punish you for it.”

“The golden apples,” Victor answered after some hesitation. “I wish to take a couple with me.”

The Tsar was silent. “Very well, you may take two with you.”

“Thank you, father.”

The Tsar rose from his throne and held his hands up over Victor’s head. “Think nothing of it, Vitya. Here is my blessing. May it protect you on your journey.”

 

For five days and five nights Victor rode, barely stopping to let his horse rest. He took great care to follow the road, which led in the same direction where the bird had flown. First he rode through a village, then the houses became few and far between, lost in large fields. Forests replaced fields, only occasionally giving way to lakes.

This was the dangerous wilderness from the tales of his brothers, but he felt no fear. He would not turn back now. He rode on until one day he came to a crossroads.

A large stone marked the spot where one road became three. It was engraved with large letters by an unknown force.

 _If you go to the left_ , Victor read, _you will lose your head. If you go to the right, you will lose your horse and if you keep going straight, you will lose your heart_.

Victor lost little time in puzzling over this sign. _I need my head and my horse, but I have already lost my heart,_ he reasoned, _so if I continue going straight no harm will befall me._

Quickly is a tale told, but long does the action unfold.

Victor passed another seven days and seven nights on the road. The nights were cold and the days – hot. Still the road spread out ahead of him, with no other way but forward. He met no human soul upon this road and the few beasts that crossed his path paid him little attention.

On the eighth morning as he began to wonder if the road would lead anywhere at all he noticed a city in the distance.

White walls rose high around small and big houses, defending them and the big palace in the middle from any would-be attacker. Golden domes of churches gleamed in the sunlight. Bells rang out, calling the people in the city to morning mass.

Knowing this needed caution, Victor climbed off the horse and left him to graze outside the city. Next, he removed his armour and kaftan embroidered with gold, all of which he hid as best as he could so that no one coming down the road would find it.

Having completed these preparations, Victor entered the city.

It took him less than a day to find the information he was looking for.

The royal gardens were full of many strange and wonderful things, much like the gardens of his father. They also housed many birds and, among them, the people in a small tavern told him was the rarest bird of all – the firebird. They all looked grave when they mentioned it, but no matter how much Victor asked them about it, they would not explain why.

“I am a gardener,” Victor explained to them. “I come from a city not far from here, looking for work. Will they take me at the palace, do you think?”

They stared at his clean white hands that had never known the hardships of labour and acted as if they believed him.

One of them offered some advice while another promised to lend their help.

To Victor’s great surprise, they took him in to work at the palace’s gardens without him having to prove he knew a thing about gardening.

The main gardener, a kind old man taught him all he knew and Victor did his best to learn it all.

Weeks went by in toil. Soon he knew all the pathways in the gardens. He learned the names of many trees and flowers and he made friends with many of the garden’s magical birds.

Late one night when he sat under a tree, gazing up at the sky a bird flew up to him and landed on the grass beside him.

It was the firebird.

Victor pulled a golden apple out of the inside of his shirt and offered it to the bird. It lowered its head as if in thanks and swallowed it up.

The tsarevich watched the bird change into a young man and smiled.

“It is you!” the young man exclaimed. “Why did you come here?”

Victor, who had learned the language of love from books, told the firebird about stars and magic, and promised to dedicate his whole life to him.

The firebird, who had never heard the language of love before, understood very little of his speech. “You should leave before you are found out,” he whispered. “A powerful magician rules this city. He placed this curse on me and turned my whole family into peasants. If you anger him, he will curse you too.”

Victor shook his head. “I came here for you. I want to help break the curse upon you and I refuse to leave before I have.”

“My name is Yuuri,” the firebird said, lowering his head. “You are very kind, but only the apples of your tree can lift the curse and even then only for a short time.”

Carefully Victor reached out with his arm and gathered Yuuri close to his chest. “If that is true, then all the golden apples in my father’s garden are yours to eat.”

He felt the warm glow as the curse took hold and Yuuri turned back into a firebird, but Victor did not release him, not even when the feathers burned his fingers.

The firebird lowered his beak onto Victor’s shoulder.

“I will come talk to you in the evening again tomorrow,” Victor promised, “and I will bring another apple with me.”

He released the firebird and watched it fly away.

They met for several evenings before Victor could persuade Yuuri to leave with him and they came up with a plan. He learned of Yuuri’s fear of the magician, but stronger still was his fear for his family. He promised to return and rescue all of them before Yuuri finally agreed to come with him.

It was a moonless night when they slipped out together. They tread through the shadows in the streets as silently and as stealthily as they could until they came to the field where Victor’s horse was waiting for him. He found his armour and kaftan where he had left them and donned them once more.

The firebird flapped its wings and landed on his shoulder as soon as Victor mounted his horse.

And they were away as quick as they could.

The stars twinkled in the sky, illuminating the road ahead as Victor urged on his horse. Yuuri clung on as tightly as he could.

They went on thus until he could see that his horse was too tired to go on and they were forced to stop.

Another golden apple and Yuuri was a human once more. They sat together in the shade of a wood while the horse rested and spoke to each other. They had both suddenly discovered that they had a great many things to say to one another and needed to say them at once.

Victor delighted in the pleasure of Yuuri’s company. He had the excellent manners of a noble and spoke a great deal of the many interesting things he had seen during his flights through the air. But, most importantly of all – he was a good dancer.

“Dance with me,” Yuuri invited him, after he swallowed another apple. He rose to his feet and held his hands out towards Victor.

The tsarevich took them and together they danced.

They tread through the grass, feet hitting the ground lightly as they turned around on the spot. Neither of them was used to having a dancing partner and so they were not ready for when Victor’s arms ended up around Yuuri and their faces were closer than ever before.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered and closed his eyes.

Poor Yuuri felt his heart thump in his chest as Victor’s breath tickled his face. He leaned closer…

The thundering of dozens of feet broke the silence. They pulled away and stared at each other in fear.

“The magician is coming here,” Yuuri whispered. His face was pale.

Victor turned to look for his sword.

“No,” Yuuri placed a hand over Victor’s, “you cannot defeat him in battle and we cannot outrun him.” He saw Victor open his mouth and guessed correctly what Victor’s next words would be. “But I will not surrender so easily. I will go hide with your armour and your horse. You will pretend to be a peasant gathering mushrooms in the forest.”

 

Two dozen horses burst into the clearing. Ahead of them – a terrifying man sat upon a horse, his eyes flashing at everything around, as if searching about for something.

“You there!” he called out to a peasant lighting a fire. “Did anyone come this way?”

The peasant shrugged. “Maybe they did. What is it to you?”

The leader of the party leapt off his horse and marched up to the peasant. He grabbed him by the shirt. “Listen, you, if you do not answer me now, I will turn you into an ant!”

“Please!” the peasant exclaimed, trembling with fear. “A man passed this way with a bird that burned like a fire. They went to hide in the forest.”

The leader tossed the peasant down to the ground. “I will go seek them out and if you are lying, I will come back and kill you myself!” He jumped onto his horse and the party disappeared into the forest.

The peasant rose to his feet and brushed himself off. Victor found the firebird and his horse in their hiding spot and they were off once more, running from their pursuers.

Days of fear and hiding followed, each like the one before.

As they neared the boundaries of Victor’s kingdom, the magician appeared once more on the road behind them, closing the distance between them with alarming speed. There was no hiding now, no trickery to use. It was time to stand and fight.

Victor stopped his horse and dismounted. He raised his sword with both hands, unused to the weight of the weapon, but calling upon all his courage to help him.

Yuuri, once more in the shape of a human, stood by his side, determined not to give in without a fight. He placed his hands over Victor’s.

“Hey there, brother!” two voices called out, one after another, and two big, broad-shouldered knights stopped on either sides of them.

“Georgi! Mila!” Victor shouted back, without lowering his sword.

But they had no time for questions or for proper introductions – the magician was upon them.

He flew at them all with the force of a strong wind at his heels, calling upon all his magic to strike them all down at once.

Georgi and Mila jumped into the fight without another word, but, despite their combined skills in battle, despite the many beasts, which both of them had slain, they were no match for the magician.

Seeing this, Yuuri pulled away from Victor. He turned into the firebird once more and took to the skies.

“Yuuri!” Victor called, heart beating fast from fear.

The firebird circled over the head of the magician, reached back and pulled a feather out to drop it onto the magician’s head.

The magician fought on, taking no notice of the feather.

Another one fell and the magician exclaimed in alarm as it brushed against his cheek. One after another, fiery feathers rained down upon the magician’s face, making him raise his arms to shield himself.

“Yuuri!” Victor called out a second time.

His siblings raised their swords and struck the magician in the stomach as the last feather fell to the ground.

The magician gave an awful cry and fell, darkening the ground below him with his blood.

Victor caught the bird as it fell out of the sky in his outstretched hands. “Oh, Yuuri,” he said, stroking the feather-less bird. “Why?” he asked as a tear rolled down his cheek. “Why?”

The firebird lay motionless. There was no warmth and no glow. As the sun set and the sky darkened, Victor dropped to his knees, still holding the bird in his arms.

The earth shook as the magician died and his soul escaped with his last breath, but no one was interested in seeing him die. Both brother and sister removed their helmets and watched Victor lower his head over the firebird in silence.

“Victor,” Georgi said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Whatever words he wished to say next froze on his lips as the air around them began to glow.

Slowly the bird turned back into Yuuri. This time he was dressed in rags. He was breathing faintly now.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered.

He opened his eyes and a smile spread over his face. “You broke the curse!”

“You are still alive!” Victor exclaimed and clutched Yuuri’s head close to his chest.

“Brother,” Georgi said as he sheathed his sword, “come with us. Our father is sick with worry about you.”

What more is there to say after that? What words could describe the joy of the Tsar when he found his youngest son returning to him alive and oh so well? Or the joy that filled the two kingdoms when it was announced that the sons of both royal families were to be wed to each other?

The celebrations at the defeat of the evil magician soon gave way to wedding celebrations. Tables overflowed with food, creaking under the weight of all the meats and fruits. Bells in all the churches rang day and night. Laughter and music filled the air. There were dances late into the night in honour of the newlyweds.

As the sun rose over the land Victor and Yuuri exchanged their vows under the gold apple tree.

And I was there. I ate at the big wedding banquet and I drank the honey and the wine to the health of both grooms. They later told me this whole story themselves just as I told it to you now.

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I saw [this wonderful art](https://princered20.tumblr.com/post/170351125830/victuuri-week-day-1-legends-victor-as-prince) and knew instantly that I had to write a fic for it. Thank you so much for the inspiration! I hope I did the picture justice!
> 
> I tried to combine elements of several Russian fairytales into one. Hopefully, it makes sense. I also drew a lot of inspiration from artworks by Ivan Bilibin (search him up, you will not regret it).
> 
> I confess I wrote this with the fantasy zine in mind, but since they didn't accept me, here it is.


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